DISCLAIMER: Katekyo Hitman Reborn is owned by its respective owners. You know, Amano Akira, etc.
A little plot bunny that involved how Kyoya discovered that he loved fighting and beating up people. Added a few elements too, though I don't know how you'll take it.
The Legend of "Kamikorosu"
Basically, he wasn't always so...invincible and capriciously violent. We all have our moments of enlightenment, and it just happened that he discovered his calling by some incident in his past...
"So, is this the kid?"
He could not decipher what the man said. He only knew Japanese and was proud of it. He squirmed, determined to escape the restraints that bound him completely. Yet the blindfold, gag and chains did nothing to diminish his drive, his mind repeating over and over the words that would become his statement.
Kamikorosu.
Kamikorosu.
Kamikorosu.
Even he cannot fully fathom how it came to him. It felt so menacing. Like a predator about to tear his prey to shreds. He calmed himself. He will free himself without help from anyone. Then he shall bite them all to death.
"Yeah, heir and only son." They needed him alive. However broken or close to death, as long as the hostage technically lives, it was fine by them. Those foreign mobsters, targeting the small town of Namimori as their territory after being banished from their homeland, were there around him. He could not see them, but he felt their presence. The stink of evil intent was enough of a sign.
"Betcha you're about to piss your pants, aren't ya? Huh!?" Irritation swelled to almost unbearable heights as one of his kidnappers grabbed hold of his hair and brought the cold tip of his gun on his temples. The boy could feel the fountain of spit emanating from the man's mouth. Disgusting. Who were these people kidding? He may dislike certain things so much to the point of being thought afraid, but to think that he was afraid of them…they're just…just…
Herbivores.
Just thinking that there are people who think he was afraid of those herbivores hurt his pride. It had not decreased at all, in fact, all this business was quickly raising its level. They have failed to break him.
You would think him impatient, the type of person who would randomly do whatever he wanted without a damn care in the world…which of course he was. But patience was relative. If it meant getting the biggest profit in the end then perhaps he would bear with it. So he waited, gathered enough clarity of the situation and physical strength to augment his resolve. It should not be long.
His mother was anxious beyond relief. She paced back and forth in the study, her husband seated calmly behind the wooden table. She cannot fathom his expression, always a blank slate that it was. Then the phone rung, its sound ear-splitting amidst the heavy silence. The father's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. The woman beat him to the phone, picking up and waiting for the caller to identify himself.
His chance had come. The gag on his mouth was removed and he could hear his mother's inquiries of his safety. He did not speak, and his father spoke next. "My son is not talking. I would not be surprised if this was all a sham. Do not waste my time."
"Y-you mothafuckin' shit! Now you blew up our ops!" The particular man loosed his restraints, muttering something about better pain. "I can beat the life outta this kid now, right?"
The "boss" smirked. "No, not yet. Leave a bit for his stubborn pops."
"Roger that." The man called boss clicked in a few buttons and readied the video recorder. That ought to convince those pushover rich asses of theirs.
But he had enough. He felt it coming – the brass knuckled fist that would surely break his face. "Kamikorosu." And at that moment, the chains shattered in million pieces. The ropes caught fire, fire of the wildest caliber, purple at the core. But he was the only one to see it.
He caught the clenched hand and it crumpled like paper at the ferocity of his strength. He grabbed hold of a gun and fired. The bullet hit a henchman but for some reason he was unsatisfied so he dropped the pistol and settled for a metal stick in the corner. Rather, he threw it square at the head of the leader of the pack, knocking him out. Men thrice his size lunged at him, armed to the teeth. He did not discriminate, hacking at anything he could get. Something other than irritation was rising in his chest. Not even once had he felt it. Every hit, those weaklings suffered shattered foreheads, arms snapped in two, eyes rendered useless as the metal rod thrust in their holes. The strong peculiar feeling sharply rose. He could hardly contain it.
The others knew nothing how it occurred. All they knew was, one by one they all dropped limp, so very close to death that they might have wished to die. Some did.
His father's men found him some hours later, in the middle of the chaos, ignoring the heaps of bodies around the boy. Likewise, they did as instructed, retrieve any piece of evidence that may be used against the family. All were done excellently and in post haste. Among the recovered evidences was a mobile phone, shown to have just stopped recording due to memory constraints. Out of curiosity, a youngster went to watch it.
The phone was immediately handed over to their employer. Earlier, they reported seeing him shaking, a river of tears cascading from his eyes…with a smile on his face. He smirked. Somehow everything made sense.
Henceforth Hibari Kyoya continually sought to experience the wonderful, euphoric world of biting people to death. Especially herbivores. His dislike for crowds also shot up considerably after the incident.
He is currently the chairman of the Disciplinary Committee of Namimori Middle School.